


Ar Lasa Mala Revas

by JamesPeppersalt



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Apostates (Dragon Age), But She Wasn't Because They're Cowards, Chantry Issues, Circle Mages, Circle of Magi, City Elf Culture and Customs, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Lore, Dragon Age Lore, Elf Culture & Customs, Free Marches (Dragon Age), I Heard Evangeline Was Going to Be An Elf in Asuder, M/M, Mages (Dragon Age), Mages and Templars, Magic, Racism, References to Canon, Rite of Tranquility, Rivain (Dragon Age), So Here's Me Writing About an Elf Templar And Expanding on Elven Lore, Starkhaven (Dragon Age), Starkhaven Circle (Dragon Age), Templars (Dragon Age), The Chantry (Dragon Age), The Harrowing (Dragon Age), Tranquil Mages
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 07:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20078710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesPeppersalt/pseuds/JamesPeppersalt
Summary: Elven Templars are rare but not unheard of in Thedas. Thus, Ser Carian Revas has always felt like an outsider in the order, lifted from the poverty of the alienage and thrust into Chantry life. However, his world is changed forever when he is transfered to Starkhaven and meets Sol, an elven mage with a mysterious past. As they grow closer, Carian begins to feel like he can be more than what his peers see him to be; however, their relationship tests his faith, his values, and his loyalty as troubles arise in the Circle.Takes place between right before Origins and Act I of Dragon Age 2.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Takes place between 9:28 and 9:31 Dragon
> 
> Well, it's been a while since I've written a Dragon Age fanfic (or any fanfic for that matter)! I was mulling this one over for a bit after learning that elf Templars exist but they've never actually shown one, as they decided to make Evangeline a human instead. I also have a lot of Opinions™ on how Bioware has handled elves as an allegory for PoC in recent years so I wanted to write a story about elven culture and oppression from the lens of an actual PoC.
> 
> Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy! I've included a lot of references to canon plotlines and characters in DA lore if OCs aren't your cup of tea ;^)

“Dear Maker, please hear my prayer, and help me…”

The revered mother watched as the young elven boy knelt before the statue of Andraste. His hair hung down to his shoulders; it had probably been blonde, once, but it had since been matted with dirt. His knees and elbows were calloused, his clothes were old, ill-fitting, and torn. Unwashed and gaunt, even more so than other elves, she could tell he had come from the Alienage. He was certainly out of place in the Chantry.

She observed as he finished his prayer, looked up at Andraste’s face, and sighed, rising to his feet.

“Whatever. You’ve never listened before. Why should you now?”

The mother felt her heart drop in pity. Not wanting him to leave with shaken faith, she stepped out of the shadows in order to approach him.

However, he was much faster than she expected of a malnourished elven boy, and she could not keep up in her old age. He was out the door before she could reach him.

Undeterred, she continued to pursue him, stepping out into the bustling city of Denerim.

As she made her way across the Chantry courtyard, she looked around for where he had gone. A ways away in the marketplace, she saw him, alongside a pair of guardsmen. She made her way over until she was within earshot of their conversation.

“...Don’t lie to me, you dirty knife-ear.”

“I told you, I didn’t take anything. I swear.”

“Oh, really? What other reason could you have for coming out of the alienage, rabbit?”

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” she asked as she reached them, startling the guards.

“M-Mother!” the taller of the two said. “No, there’s no problem, just another elf who needs to learn his place.”

“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, has this boy done to deserve your anger?”

“I didn’t do anything, Mother,” the boy said.

“Quiet, you,” the other guard ordered. He returned his attention to the Mother. “There’s been a robbery in the marketplace.”

“My, that sounds quite awful. But what reason do you have to suspect this child of all people?”

The guards squirmed uncomfortably, struggling to come up with a convincing reason.

“I… well, look at him. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. People like him, they’re desperate; they’ll do anything for their next meal,” one of them managed.

“People like him?”

“Well, I mean… you know how elves are.”

“Oh?” she replied, crossing her arms. “The way I see it, you see a small, hungry boy, and instead of taking pity on him, you assume him a criminal simply for the shape of his ears. Were he a human boy, I’m sure you’d turn him over to us in the Chantry for a warm meal and a roof over his head.”

“But--”

“In fact, I have proof this boy was not in the marketplace at the time of the robbery-- he was with me, learning the Chant. Isn’t that right?”

The boy stared at her with his big, gem-like eyes, but said nothing and simply nodded.

“There. You see? Now, why don’t you get back to some  _ real  _ guarding before I let slip to the captain you’re going around accusing children instead of trying to find the true perpetrators?”

The guards fumbled over their apologies, kissing up to her, before going on their way as quickly as possible. The mother smirked.

“Hey.”

She felt a tug on her skirt. The boy was looking up at her incredulously.

“Why did you do that?” he asked.

“What do you mean? I was simply looking out for one of the Maker’s children, as is my duty.”

“Even an elf?”

The mother’s lips tightened. She knelt down before him. “What’s your name, little boy?”

“Carian.”

“Well, Carian, I would not turn my back on one of the faithful simply because he was different from me.”

Carian narrowed his eyes. “How do you know I’m faithful? Or that I’m not a thief?”

“I saw you praying in the Chantry,” she admitted. He turned slightly red and looked away. “Seeing you there, your little hands clasped as you prayed… it reminded me of myself as a young girl. I came to the Chantry, alone, unloved… but I had faith that the Maker would carry me through my time of need.”

“Faith won’t feed my family,” he scoffed.

“Not on its own, no,” she chuckled. “But faith, combined with resolve, and a willingness to create change… that can do far more.”

He frowned at her. “What does that mean?”

“I can show you. But first, let’s get some food in you. You look absolutely famished.” She stood, holding out her hand. “My name is Mother Elois, Carian. And I believe you have potential for greatness.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mage apprentices at the Starkhaven Circle learn of a new Templar recruit from Fereldan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we introduce the other main character

“Hey, Sol, did you hear about the new Templars being transferred here from Kinloch Hold?”

“No, because unlike some people, I enjoy doing well in my studies as opposed to gossiping.”

“Oh, you,” Anaia scoffed, rolling her eyes.

The two sat across from each other at a desk in the library. Anaia glared at Sol, who smirked, turning the page in the book he was currently skimming. However, her expression quickly changed.

“Well, I think you’ll find it interesting. I hear one of them’s an  _ elf.” _

That did peak his interest. He glanced up at her. “An elf, huh?”

“Yeah. I  _ heard  _ that anyone of any race can become a Templar-- well, except mages, of course-- but I didn’t think I’d ever actually  _ see  _ one.”

“They probably don’t want to deal with all the racism.”

“The elves in the Circles do.”

“I don’t know if you know this, Anaia, but we don’t exactly have a choice in the matter.”

“Oh, yeah.”

He laughed, but inwardly, he was truly curious about this elven Templar. He wondered if they would be kinder than their fellows, especially to a fellow elf… well, probably not. A Templar was a Templar. No matter if they were kind to a mage compared to their fellows, he had to remember that if he slipped up, he would be struck down indiscriminately.

_ Pleasant thoughts, Sol, _ he reminded himself.

“I wonder if these ones will be nice,” Anaia sighed. “Or pretty. I’m tired of seeing the same old bodies around here.”

“Really?” Sol scoffed. “You’re at it today. You already want to sleep with a Templar you haven’t even met? That’s so many bad decisions rolled into one.”

“Well excuse me if rutting an apprentice in a supply closet is getting kind of old. Besides, it’s not like you can do any better, based on your previous performance...”

Sol closed his book. “Anaia. We were stupid teenagers. It was one time. I had zero experience. You need to let it go.”

“Oh, don’t get so beat up over it. At least we’re still on speaking terms. Unlike some people.”

“Regardless, sleeping with a Templar can’t be a good idea by any means.”

“Oh, I’m just joking,” Anaia said, waving her hand in the air to dismiss him. “I’d never  _ actually  _ do it. Probably.”

“You humans are so tiring,” he sighed, standing and picking up his book.

“Oh, come on!” she insisted, running up to him and pulling on one of his ears. “Let’s go  _ meet  _ them. It can’t hurt to know the people who are going to be our jailors for the rest of our lives.”

“Ugh,  _ fine,”  _ he groaned, pulling his head away from her. “But only if you promise to stop doing that. I’m not five.”

“Sure, sure. But it’s hard to resist… you’re so  _ tiny.” _

“You’re only an  _ inch  _ taller than me! An  _ inch!” _

“Two!” she corrected, taking his hand and pulling him away from the library.

***

_ My dearest child, _

_ It honors me greatly to hear of your coming transfer to the Starkhaven Circle. I cannot begin to express how proud of you I am. It has been my greatest pleasure in life to watch you rise through the ranks and find your purpose in life. I’m sure a promotion is somewhere down the line… although perhaps we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. _

_ You are destined for great things in life, my dear Carian. I can’t wait to see how the Maker uses you. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Revered Mother Elois of the Denerim Chantry _

Carian smiled sweetly at the letter. He’d received it shortly before leaving Fereldan, but every so often he’d open it and read it once more. He’d come a long way from the starving little boy begging the Maker to deliver him. He’d made it.

“What’re you reading there? Love letters?”

Carian looked up. One of the knight-captains-- Gareth, he believed-- was standing in his doorway. Carian had remembered him as a gruff older man with a thick Starkhaven accent.

“No, it’s a letter from a friend back in Denerim,” he answered. “Just thinking about home.”

Ser Gareth grunted. Carian figured that was how men in Starkhaven communicated most of their feelings. “I’ve heard good things about you, Ser Carian.”

“I won’t disappoint,” he swore.

“Aye, I don’t doubt it,” the Lieutenant chuckled. “I figure any elf with enough resolve to join the Order is eager to prove himself. Just don’t feel you hafta strain yourself in order to do that.”

“I understand, Ser,” Carian said, the edge of his mouth twitching slightly. Every human commander he’d ever had would say that. It was never true.

“If you need anything, Ser Carian, I’m always--”

Whatever vaguely inspiring thing the captain was about to say was interrupted by voices in the corridor.

“Anaia, let go-- I can walk by myself--!”

“You’re too slow for that. Come on!”

Gareth sighed. “I see a few of our apprentices have caught wind of the new arrivals.”

“Probably come to gawk at the knife-ear Templar,” Carian joked.

That didn’t seem to sit well with the captain, who frowned uncomfortably.

Right. Knife-ear jokes wouldn’t cut it here. Noted.

“U-Um, why don’t I meet them?” Carian suggested instead, walking towards the door. “I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to meet my new charges.”

“Hm.” Ser Gareth grunted again. Unsure whether that was affirmative or not, Carian decided to do it anyways, stepping into the hall.

Before him, two apprentices were arguing. One was a human girl, with short, choppy blonde hair. She was pulling along the other-- an elven boy, with dark skin, a face covered in freckles, and a head full of black curls. He held a tome in his hand and was currently using it to beat his fellow apprentice to get her away from him.

“Quit it, Anaia, or I swear I’ll--”

Carian coughed loudly into his hand. The two apprentices looked up at him with wide brown eyes.

“Hello,” he said, taking a more authoritative stance. “I’m Ser Carian Revas. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The elven apprentice took advantage of the distraction to push the other away from him. “The same to you, Ser,” he said, bowing as though nothing were out of the ordinary. “I’m Solarion. And this is--”

“Anaia du Reve,” the girl said, holding out her hand. “What a pleasure to finally meet you. We’ve heard much.”

“Oh?” Carian said, smirking. “Such as?”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Uh… like… how interesting it is to have a Fereldan Templar in the Free Marches! That’s… new!”

“That’s true,” he noted. “What will they think of next? And elven Templar? What a world we live in.”

Anaia turned red, giggling nervously. “I… uh…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Carian said, winking. “It was a joke.”

“O-Oh!” she forced a laugh, turning her head back towards her friend, who was covering his mouth with his hand, stifling a laugh.

“And what about you? Solarion, was it?”

“Hm?” the elven apprentice blushed, surprised. “Oh, uh. Everyone just calls me Sol.”

“Well, it’s good to meet you, Sol.”

“Are you two bothering newbies again?” Gareth scoffed as he stepped out of the room. “Anaia, I believe the first enchanter talked to you about this. Do we need to revisit that discussion?”

“Ah…” Anaia twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “No, Knight-Captain.”

“They’re not bothering me, Ser,” Carian assured the captain. “I’d like to get to know the Circle. What better way than getting to know its mages?”

The Knight-Captain didn’t seem to believe him, but he didn’t say anything to the contrary, turning instead to Sol. “Apprentice Solarion. Why don’t you show Ser Carian around? I’m sure knowing another elf will make him feel more at home here.”

“Of course, Knight-Captain,” Sol agreed, though the dry expression on his face showcased exactly what Carian was feeling.

“W-Well, what about me?” Anaia asked.

“Ah, I’m sure you’ll do much better returning to the apprentices’ quarters to study. Senior Enchanter Smith had some… opinions on your performance in his last lesson.”

Anaia made a face, but followed Gareth as he led her in the other direction.

Left alone, the two elves turned to each other.

“Sooooo…” Sol began.

“So,” Carian responded.

“Do you want to ask about anything before we begin?”

“Oh… I don’t know,” Carian mused. “There’s so much I could ask another elf, you know? Like, what’s the policy on being barefoot here? Is the food bad enough to pay homage to my humble impoverished roots? Are we allowed to frolic merrily while singing about trees, or is that frowned upon?”

The corner of Sol’s mouth curved up into a smile. “A Templar with a sense of humor, eh? You don’t see those often.”

“I’m certainly one of a kind.”

“Hm.” Sol turned. “Well, Ser Carian, why don’t we begin the tour?”

“Gladly.”

The two of them made their way through the corridor, leaving the Templar quarters behind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sol gives Carian a tour of the Circle

“Focus, Carian,” Mother Elois said calmly as her ward aimed his arrow at the center of the target. His green eyes narrowed as he took a steady breath, releasing the string. The arrow didn’t quite hit the center, but it did land in one of the inner rings. His aim was improving. He turned and smiled at her with his big, eager grin.

“Did you see, Mother?” he asked.

“I did,” she said, ruffling his hair. In the year since she’d taken him in, he had gained some weight, cleaned up, and his hair had been cut short, back to its natural, free blonde locks. He’d learned to read, recite the Chant, and was taking quite well to the way of the bow.

She’d lifted him from the poverty of the alienage and was slowly crafting him into a fine young man.

“You’re doing so well, my child. You’ll do great things in the future.”

*******

“Alright, you’ve seen the Templar quarters already, so I don’t need to explain those,” Sol began as he led Carian away from his room. Though he tried his best to hide it, he observed this new face from the corner of his eye with great curiosity. The Templar was tall for an elf, though probably still shorter than his human counterparts. His frame was less willowy, too; he was leaner, with some muscle to him. His hair was trimmed short, and he had big, curious green eyes.

“Where are you from?” Sol inquired.

“Fereldan.”

“I got that. But where  _ in  _ Fereldan?”

Carian made a strange face. “I’m from Denerim. I lived there until I was assigned to Kinloch Hold.”

“I see.” Perhaps he’d been the children of some lord’s servants. He didn’t seem like an alienage elf.

“What about you? Do you remember your life before the Circle?”

Sol frowned. “Not much,” he lied. “I was born in Rivain. The skin lets most people know that. I traveled with my mum until my magic manifested.”

“You weren’t born in an alienage?”

“Nope. Lucky I am at that. Mum and I lived in Diarsmuid, but we traveled once she had the money. We were in the Free Marches when my magic manifested, so I’ve been in Starkhaven ever since.”

“How young were you?” Carian asked.

“I was six, but that doesn’t really matter,” Sol said evasively, pushing open a set of doors. “Anyways, here’s the library.”

The Templar stared, wide-eyed, at the rows and rows of books that lined the walls.

“This is incredible!” he gushed. “I mean, Kinloch had an amazing library, but this is… amazing!”

Starkhaven was to many a city of extravagant princes and stuffy nobles; the Circle certainly reflected that. There was no expense spared there; everything looked impressive, with gorgeous architecture and pristine conditions, so of course, its library had to go far beyond expectations. Sol had heard other Circles-- such as the Gallows in Kirkwall-- had it far worse, both in terms of living conditions and Templar cruelty.

Still, he could never shake the feeling that this was just a gilded cage.

“I need to return this book,” Sol said, “so you can look around while I do that.”

“What’s it about?” Carian asked, continuing to follow instead.

“It’s on Dalish culture.”

“Huh.” The Templar scratched his chin, pondering that for a moment. “I don’t know much about them other than the stories other city elves told. A lot of people talked about leaving to join them. I don’t think many of them ever did, though. It was just a baseless fantasy they had.”

Oh. That sounded accusatory.

“I’m not planning on running away or anything,” Sol blurted as he set the book down in a return bin. “I just think there’s a lot we can learn from them.”

Carian shrugged. “They’re a mystery to me. I just don’t think it’s realistic to chase that mystery. But the hope that there was a better life out there with other elves was what kept a lot of people in the alienage going.”

Sol frowned. “Are you  _ from  _ an alienage?”

“I was. I didn’t stay there, obviously.” Carian motioned towards the doors. “Shall we continue?”

Taking the obvious hint to drop the conversation, Sol shut his mouth and led the way out.

“Alright. Over there are the apprentices’ quarters. I live there. You’ll probably mostly be on guard there for now since you’re new.”

“Anyone I should look out for.”

“Well, there’s Anaia. She’s a handful, as you may have observed. She’s from one of those Orlesian families that settled in the Free Marches, if that explains anything.”

“That explains a lot, actually,” Carian chuckled.

“Then there’s Amell, one of my roommates. He never shuts up about how his family is nobility in Kirkwall or something.” Sol rolled his eyes. “He’s got a sister or cousins or something in Ferelden, so he might ask you about that.”

“I think there was an Amell in Kinloch. She was talented. Always hung out with this weird Jowan kid, though.”

“Well, now you have something for him to talk off your ear about,” Sol said as they took the stairs to the next floor. “Up here are the mages’ quarters, for those that have passed their Harrowing. Watch out for Decimus. He’s mean. And he doesn’t like Templars. He’s close with Grace, who’s pretty much the same way. Stay away from those two.”

“Duly noted.” Carian glanced around. “Do you know when you’re going to undergo your Harrowing?”

Sol felt his ears turn red hot. That was a sensitive subject; the Harrowing was something he anticipated but feared. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m curious.”

“Ah, a curious Templar, every mage’s favorite kind of person.”

Carian seemed unamused by this.

“I, uh, don’t know when it’ll be,” Sol answered, deciding that pissing off the new Templar on his first day was not a good idea, in fact. “Most of us take it shortly after becoming adults, but it depends on your talent. There’s a mage who didn’t take her Harrowing until she was in her late twenties. Other people take it as teenagers. I feel like mine will be coming soon, though. But enough about all that. Can we get on with the tour, now?”

“Certainly.”

***

Carian was definitely impressed by the Starkhaven Circle.

He’d heard that the city-state was pretentious, and he hadn’t heard wrong. Going through the rings of the city, everything seemed very polished and show-offish. He missed the simplicity of Ferelden; the drab decorations, the smell of dogs, the brown. The more he thought about it, the more homesick he felt.

Perhaps that was why he was asking this apprentice Solarion so many questions. Although he’d joked about Gareth shoving them together just for being two elves in the same general area, being around other elves was comforting in a way he couldn’t explain. Maybe it was just because being in the Order meant his time was spent with an overwhelming amount of clueless humans, and most mages, even the elven ones, tended to avoid him.

But he’d heard this Circle was different. The mages were treated better by Templars here, so perhaps they would be more trusting.

“Alright, you’ve seen the mess hall, the stores, the studies… I think that’s all you need for now,” Sol said as they returned to the ground floor.

“Thank you for this.”

“No need to thank me. Hard to disagree with the knight-captain, anyways.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Carian laughed. He held out his hand. “It was good to meet you.”

“Oh.” Sol stared at his hand for a moment before taking it, shaking it firmly. “The same to you.”

“I’m sure we’ll see more of each other around, but for now, I need to get back to my quarters.”

“Sure. And, hey… don’t take it too much to heart if the people around here aren’t too welcoming to you as an elf. A lot of them are just acting out because it makes them feel better. Just remember to keep a level head.”

Carian smiled a bit at that. “Thanks, but I can handle myself.”

“Alright. But I know how hard it can be.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sol nodded, then turned and walked back towards the apprentices’ quarters. As he walked away, Carian couldn’t help but notice him taking an amulet out from under the collar of his robes and playing with it absentmindedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta reader got to the end of this chapter and said "we love a mystery amulet" and I am so happy they caught onto that lol


End file.
